To Tell the Truth
by cmpbtdudethe
Summary: -COMPLETE-Hermione is on her way to meet Ron at Grimmauld Place, even though Ron thinks she's in Bulgaria with Krum. Both of them are thinking incessantly about memories involving each other. What happens when Hermione shows up at Grimmauld Place?
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: All of the memories that Ron and Hermione recall are excerpts from books 3, 4, and 5, but switched around so that they're from Ron or Hermione's point of view.

JKR owns it all!

To Tell the Truth

The subway whizzed through its tunnel, rocking the people within from side to side as it made its steady progress. Hermione sat among them, her trunk balanced next to her, and Crookshanks in his basket on her lap. The train was carrying her slowly but steadily toward Grimmauld Place, where she would be staying for the remainder of the summer. She was not entirely sure if she was excited or nervous about going, nor was she very sure why she would be nervous anyway, but she was impatient to get there all the same. Being Hermione, however, she could easily pass the time by reading. At that moment she was trying to immerse herself in a large and very heavy book, but was finding it distinctly difficult. Three paragraphs before she had been, as usual, completely absorbed—but three paragraphs before there had been no mention of rats.

"_Add two unicorn hairs_," the book had said,"_and stir for three minutes and thirty-seven seconds before adding the rat eyeballs. This will give the hairs enough time to dissolve, giving the potion the very strange quality of_…."

And then she had stopped. Rats …

She looked up. She was not certain why, but she suddenly thought of Ron. A warm feeling grew inside her at the thought of her freckly-faced friend, and she could not help but yearn to see him again. Impatiently she cursed the subway for being so slow, and wished she could charm it to make it go faster. _Be patient, Hermione_, she thought. _Just read your book_. And she would have just gone back to reading again, but there was the word "rat" staring at her in black and white, and that same image of Ron burst clearer than ever back into her mind. Strangely, she fought against the memory of him, much as she wanted to think about him. At last, however, she realized she could not be distracted by her book, and she reluctantly let her mind carry her back to that time, almost three years ago now, when a rat had been a very big topic between Ron and herself….

She was walking up the corridor towards the Fat Lady's portrait, trying with all her might to suppress the tears. Despite her anger towards Ron for accusing her cat of eating Scabbers, she had to find him. And there he was, coming down the hall in the opposite direction, along with Harry. Now was the time for forgiveness.

"Come to have a good gloat?" said Ron savagely when she had stopped in front of him. "Or have you just been to tell on us?"

Assuming that Ron had mistaken her look of horror for a look of anger at Harry for sneaking into Hogsmeade again, she shook her head.

"No." She held out the letter as her lip began to tremble with sorrow. "I just thought you ought to know … Hagrid lost his case. Buckbeak is going to be executed."

Harry looked at her in surprise, and Ron's face changed from anger and resentment to surprise and a different kind of anger—an anger at the Malfoys for being so cruel.

"He—he sent me this," she continued, holding out the letter.

Harry took it, and he and Ron began to read quickly.

"They can't do this," said Harry after he had finished. "They can't. Buckbeak isn't dangerous."

"Malfoy's dad's frightened the Committee into it," said Hermione, wiping her eyes to keep any tears that appeared from flowing down her cheeks. "You know what he's like. They're a bunch of doddery old fools, and they were scared. There'll be an appeal, though, there always is. Only I can't see any hope…. Nothing will have changed."

"Yeah, it will," said Ron fiercely, looking Hermione straight in the eyes. "You won't have to do all the work alone this time, Hermione. I'll help."

"Oh, Ron!"

Before Hermione knew what had happened she had broken down completely and was holding on to Ron as tightly as she could. Ron, looking quite terrified, patted her very awkwardly on the top of the head. There was a very uncomfortable moment between them in which Hermione felt like saying a hundred things, but finally settled on only one. At last she drew away.

"Ron, I'm really, really sorry about Scabbers …" she sobbed, feeling thankful that the awkward moment was over.

"Oh—well—he was old," said Ron, looking thoroughly relieved that she had let go of him. "And he was a bit useless. You never know, Mum and Dad might get me an owl now."

Hermione sighed as she came back to the present, glancing about her at her fellow passengers. Thinking about Ron was a funny thing. Even now, when she was miles away from her freckly companion, she could almost hear his voice.

"We _should _get a move on, you know … ask someone. He's right. We don't want to end up with a pair of trolls."

Hermione let out a sputter of indignation at Ron's horribly rude name for a dance partner for the Yule Ball.

"A pair of … _what_, excuse me?"

"Well—you know," said Ron, shrugging. "I'd rather go alone than with—with Eloise Midgen, say."

Hermione blinked. She felt slightly stung by his words. She had never considered herself pretty.

"Her acne's loads better lately—and she's really nice!"

"Her nose is off-center," said Ron.

"Oh I see," Hermione said, bristling. "So basically, you're going to take the best-looking girl who'll have you, even if she's completely horrible?"

"Er—yeah, that sounds about right," said Ron.

"I'm going to bed," Hermione snapped, sweeping off toward the girls' staircase. She had half a mind to say more to Ron, but could not find words strong enough to express her anger, or resentment, or whatever it was she was feeling.

She was startled to find that she half-wished he asked _her_ to the ball. But he hadn't. Well, not until it was too late at least. Someone else had gotten to her first.

She was in the library studying her Potions notes when suddenly she heard the familiar giggling. Viktor Krum's fan club, she thought. Again.

But then the giggling stopped, and Hermione looked up. The girls were staring, not at Viktor, but at herself. For a moment she wondered if she had something on her face, but then she realized that they were also staring at Viktor, because he had come over to her table.

"Could I haff a vord?" he asked quietly.

Hermione, taken aback, replied, "Sure."

Krum took her hand roughly and lead her away from his fan club, giving them one of his famous scowls. The girls frowned and stalked off. Once they were gone, he turned to Hermione.

"Vould you vont to come to the ball vith me?"

It was so abrupt and he had said it so quietly that Hermione didn't know what to say at first. He stared straight into her eyes, his hand still around hers. Once she'd gotten over the shock of someone asking _her_—_her_, not one of the ditsy pretty girls in his fan club, but _her_—she began to consider it.

She was surprised to find that her first thought was Ron. What she would give to have him here, holding her hand and looking into her eyes like that, asking her to the ball! But this was not Ron, and what a silly thought, to wish that Ron were asking her. Ron was just her friend, her very, very good friend. So she answered "yes," much as that strange half of her wanted to answer, "no, Ron's taking me." But Ron did not ask, she thought, nor would he, so she put him out of her mind.


	2. Chapter 2

Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place seemed quiet to Ron without Harry and Hermione there. Cleaning, though he didn't do this as often as last summer since the house was almost completely hospitable anyway, was boring with only his mother and sister to help him, and the whole place had a dark and depressed feeling about it now that Sirius was dead. If this year was like last summer, Hermione would be arriving by now, but things were different. Hermione was visiting Krum in Bulgaria and wouldn't be here until much later in the summer. After Harry came, which would be in a few more weeks still, life would still be sad and tiresome since Harry would be feeling horrible about Sirius and would want to be alone with himself. So Ron lay alone and restless on his back, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom from his place on his bed with his feet on his pillow and his head where his feet should be.

With nothing to do but let his mind wander, Ron began to think about Hermione and the day he first saw her in the strange new light he always thought of her in nowadays.

The portrait to the common room swung open and Harry came in, dragging his feet and examining the floor. Personally, Ron was feeling very sick, but he looked up from Ginny, who was trying to sooth him, to see Harry walking in.

"What's up, Ron?" said Harry, joining him and Ginny and seeing the look of blind horror on Ron's face.

"Why did I do it?" Ron said wildly. "I don't know what made me do it!"

"What?" said Harry. Ron tried to find words to describe the feeling of horror inside him of what he had just done, but before he could do so, Ginny had begun to speak instead.

"He—er—just asked Fleur Delacour to go to the ball with him."

"You _what_?" said Harry.

"I don't know what made me do it!" Ron gasped again. "What was I playing at? There were people—all around—I've gone mad—everyone watching! I was just walking past her in the entrance hall—she was standing there talking to Diggory—and it sort of came over me—and I asked her!"

Ron moaned and put his face in his hands, continuing to tell Harry the whole story, and half-hiding his words with his hands so that they were barely distinguishable.

"She looked at me like I was a sea slug or something. Didn't even answer. And then—I dunno—I just sort of came to my senses and ran for it."

"She's part veela," said Harry. "You were right—her grandmother was one. It wasn't your fault, I bet you just walked past when she was turning on the old charm for Diggory and got a blast of it—but she was wasting her time. He's going with Cho Chang."

Ron looked up, feeling both surprised at this news and slightly less sick at the fact that Fleur was part veela.

"I asked her to go with me just now," said Harry dully in answer to Ron's questioning look, "and she told me."

Ginny had suddenly stopped smiling.

"This is mad," said Ron. "We're the only ones left who haven't got anyone—well, except Neville. Hey—guess who he asked? _Hermione_!"

"_What_?" said Harry.

"Yeah, I know!" said Ron, some of the color coming back into his face as he started to laugh. "He told me after Potions! Said she's always been really nice, helping him out with work and stuff—but she told him she was already going with someone. Ha! As if! She just didn't want to go with Neville … I mean, who would?"

"Don't!" said Ginny, annoyed. "Don't laugh—"

Just then Hermione climbed through the portrait hole.

"Why weren't you two at dinner?" she said, coming over to join them.

"Because—oh shut up laughing, you two—because they've both just been turned down by girls they asked to the ball!" said Ginny.

That shut Harry and Ron up.

"Thanks a bunch, Ginny," said Ron sourly. For some reason he didn't really want Hermione knowing about his encounter with Fleur.

"All the good-looking ones taken, Ron?" said Hermione loftily. "Eloise Midgen starting to look quite pretty now, is she? Well I'm sure you'll find someone _somewhere_ who'll have you."

But Ron was not listening to a word Hermione was saying. He had suddenly begun to see her—everything about her—very clearly and in perfect detail: the way her hair fell around her face, how she could look angry and amused at the same time, and how he suddenly noticed her pretty teeth that were now so perfectly straight behind her smiling mouth. Before he could stop himself, he had said, almost in awe, "Hermione, Neville's right—you _are_ a girl…."

"Oh well spotted," she said acidly.

"Well—you can come with one of us!" he continued, still not completely aware of what he was saying. Strangely enough, however, he was dimly attentive of the fact that he wanted to say "with me" but had actually said "with one of us."

"No, I can't," snapped Hermione.

"Oh come on," he said, impatiently now since she was obviously not catching on to the fact that he wanted her to go with him, "we need partners," there it was again, the "we" instead of the "I," "we're going to look really stupid if we haven't got any, everyone else has …"

"I can't come with you," said Hermione, now blushing, "because I'm already going with someone."

"No, you're not!" said Ron. Now he was mad—did she dislike him so much that she would say the same lie to him that she had said to Neville? Suddenly he felt very self-conscious. "You just said that to get rid of Neville!"

"Oh _did_ I?" said Hermione, and her eyes flashed dangerously. "Just because it's taken _you_ three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean no one _else_ has spotted I'm a girl!"

Ron stared at her. Then he grinned again. She was just being sour because he had never seen her like this before—she really _did_ want to go with him.

"Okay, okay, we know you're a girl," he said. "That do? Will you come now?"

"I've already told you!" Hermione said very angrily. "I'm going with someone else!"

And she stormed off toward the girls' dormitories again.

"She's lying," said Ron flatly, watching her go.

"She's not," said Ginny quietly.

"Who is it then?" said Ron sharply, suddenly mad again.

"I'm not telling you, it's her business," said Ginny.

"Right," said Ron, feeling very put out, "this is getting stupid. Ginny _you_ can go with Harry, and I'll just—"

"I can't," said Ginny, and she went scarlet too. "I'm going with—with Neville. He asked me when Hermione said no, and I thought … well … I'm not going to be able to go otherwise, I'm not in fourth year." She looked extremely miserable. "I think I'll go and have dinner," she said, and she got up and walked off to the portrait hole, her head bowed.

Ron goggled at Harry.

"What's gotten into them?" he demanded, furious that both his sister and Hermione had ditched him for someone else.


	3. Chapter 3

The doors of the subway opened and a few people came in, tearing Hermione from her reminiscing. A girl carrying an armful of what looked like prom dresses struggled in and made her way over to Hermione, where the only empty seat was.

"Is this free?" she asked cheerfully. Hermione nodded and smiled in return. The girl took her seat and glanced at the book Hermione was holding, which Hermione hastened to hide.

"Don't bother," said the girl in an undertone. "I've read that book." She winked, and Hermione smiled again, turning back to her page and starting to read again. But before she'd even made her way through one sentence, she glanced at the prom dresses again, thinking of a time when she, like so many Muggle girls on their prom night, had fussed endlessly over her appearance.

The Weasley brothers and Harry were having a snowball fight, but Hermione chose to watch instead of joining in and getting wet, tired, and dirty. She sat on the stone steps, her eyes following Ron and every move he made. His hair was bright against the white snow, and she admired his look of concentration as he scooped, patted, took aim, and hurled the snow. He was a very good snowball fighter, she observed, feeling proud every time he hit his target, and laughing with him and his triumph. But as she watched she felt very regretful that it was not he she would be sharing the Yule Ball with. She felt sad at the very thought.

When finally she could bear to watch Ron no more, she stood up, clapped her mittens to dislodge the snow, and called to the boys that she was going up to get ready for the ball.

"What, you need three hours?" said Ron, looking at her incredulously and paying for his lapse in concentration when a large snowball, thrown by George, hit him hard on the side of the head. "Who are you going with?" he yelled after Hermione, but she just waved and disappeared up the stone steps into the castle, wondering why she kept hiding the name of her date from Ron.

She stepped through the front doors into the entrance hall and turned to go up to the Gryffindor common room. Once there, she made her way up to the girls' dormitories, where she shook the melted snow from her hair and drew up a chair to the mirror. She had no idea how to do this, and, thankfully, Parvati and Lavender had not come up yet to get ready and witness what she was about to do. Good. So she was the only one who needed three hours to get ready for a Christmas ball. Nervously she sat down and examined her reflection, searching out every flaw, and finally settling her eyes on her hair. She had never before been bothered by it, but now she noticed with probing eyes—it was unattractively bushy. So she set to work

Parvati and Lavender had already told her that she could borrow their cosmetics, and so, after slipping in to her dress robes (she didn't want to mess up her hair after she'd put it up by undressing and dressing again), she took out Lavender's bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. Not wanting to use more than she had to, she put a small circle of the stuff into her hand, and then spread it through her hair. The finished project was no less frizzy, but, on the other hand, it _did_ look as though she had not washed her hair in several weeks. She then proceeded to add more and more amounts to her hair, getting it closer and closer to the sleek and shiny result she wanted. As she worked, she began to subconsciously wonder what Ron would think when he saw this strange and new straight-haired Hermione. Would he like it? Would it make him feel uncomfortable? Would he want her to do it more often? Would he think she was pretty? Not once did she wonder what Viktor would think, or if _he_ would think she was pretty. When she was finished, she bundled herself up against the cold and made her way to the Durmstrang ship to meet Viktor.

Hermione smiled sadly at the memory, wishing more than anything that she had been going down to meet Ron that night. But then her grin broadened as she remembered the look of horror on Ron's face as she had sat down next to him in the middle of the ball, announcing that Viktor had just gone to get drinks.


	4. Chapter 4

Meanwhile at Grimmauld Place Ron was examining the exact same memory in his mind, still feeling the incredible anger at seeing Hermione dancing with Krum at the ball, and marveling at how quickly his thoughts about Krum had changed when he saw him arm-in-arm with Hermione.

Hermione came over and sat down in Parvati's empty chair. She was a bit pink in the face from dancing.

"Hi," said Harry. Ron's fury prevented him from saying anything.

"It's hot, isn't it?" said Hermione, fanning herself with her hand. "Viktor's just gone to get some drinks."

Ron gave her a withering look. "_Viktor_?" he said. "Hasn't he asked you to call him _Vicky_ yet?"

Hermione looked at him in surprise. "What's up with you?" she said.

"If you don't know," said Ron scathingly, "I'm not going to tell you."

Hermione stared at him, then at Harry, who shrugged.

"Ron, what—?"

"He's from Durmstrang!" spat Ron, not wanting to tell her that the truth was he wanted her to come with _him_ to the ball. "He's competing against Harry! Against Hogwarts! You—you're—" Ron was casting around for words, "_fraternizing with the enemy_, that's what you're doing!"

Hermione's mouth fell open.

"Don't be so stupid!" she said after a moment. "The _enemy_! Honestly—who was the one who was all excited when they saw him arrive? Who was the one who wanted his autograph? Who's got a model of him up in their dormitory?"

Ron was stung by these words and, at the same time, angered by them. It was true; he _did_ have a model of Viktor Krum in his dormitory. Suddenly the appeal of the tiny walking figure was lost, and he made a mental note to destroy it the next chance he got. For now, however, he chose to ignore Hermione's words. "I s'pose he asked you to come with him while you were both in the library?"

"Yes, he did," said Hermione, the pink patches on her cheeks glowing more brightly. "So what?"

"What happened—trying to get him to join _spew_, were you?"

"No, I wasn't! If you _really_ want to know, he—he said he'd been coming up to the library every day to try and talk to me, but he hadn't been able to pluck up the courage!"

Hermione said this very quickly, and blushed so deeply that she was the same color as Parvati's robes. Ron saw the embarrassment in her and part of him knew what it meant, but the other part was still so furious with her for abandoning him that he didn't really care at the moment.

"Yeah, well—that's his story," he said nastily.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Obvious, isn't it? He's Karkaroff's student, isn't he? He knows who you hang around with…. He's just trying to get closer to Harry—get inside information on him—or get near enough to jinx him—"

Ron saw with satisfaction that Hermione looked as though Ron had slapped her. When she spoke, her voice quivered.

"For your information, he hasn't asked me _one single thing_ about Harry, not one—"

Ron changed tack at the speed of light.

"Then he's hoping you'll help him find out what his egg means! I suppose you've been putting your heads together during those cozy little library sessions—"

"I'd _never_ help him work out that egg!" said Hermione, looking outraged. "_Never_. How could you say something like that—I want Harry to win the tournament, Harry knows that, don't you, Harry?"

"You've got a funny way of showing it," sneered Ron.

"This whole tournament's supposed to be about getting to know foreign wizards and making friends with them!" said Hermione hotly.

"No it isn't!" shouted Ron. "It's about winning!"

People were starting to stare at them.

"Ron," said Harry quietly, "I haven't got a problem with Hermione coming with Krum—"

But Ron ignored Harry too.

"Why don't you go find Vicky, he'll be wondering where you are," said Ron, loathing everything about Krum.

"_Don't call him Vicky!_"

Hermione jumped to her feet and stormed off across the dance floor, disappearing into the crowd. Ron watched her go with mixed feelings of anger and satisfaction.

"Are you going to ask me to dance at all?" Padma asked him.

"No," said Ron, still glaring after Hermione. He was not pleased at all at going with Padma instead of Hermione, who, he was sure, really wanted to go with him instead of Krum.

"Fine," snapped Padma, and she got up and went to join Parvati and the Beauxbatons boy, who conjured up one of his friends to join them.

"Vare is Herm-own-ninny?" said a voice.

Krum had just arrived at their table clutching two butterbeers.

"No idea," said Ron mulishly, looking up at him. "Lost her, have you?"

Krum was looking surly again.

"Vell if you see her, tell her I haff drinks," he said, and he slouched off.

The rest of the ball Ron spent with Harry, which included an unfortunate run-in with Hagrid, and ended with Harry and himself discussing giants. Ron didn't see or talk to Hermione and Krum throughout the rest of the dance, but afterwards he saw them saying goodnight, and Hermione gave him a very cold look before turning to go up the marble staircase. Ron and Harry followed her, but halfway up the staircase they heard someone calling Harry.

"Hey—Harry!"

It was Cedric Diggory.

"Yeah?" said Harry coldly as Cedric ran up the stairs toward him.

Cedric looked as though he didn't want to say whatever it was in front of Ron, who shrugged, feeling bad-tempered, and continued to climb the stairs, intent on finding Hermione.

When he had finally caught up to her in the common room, he hissed, "Have a good night with _Vicky_?"

"What is _wrong_ with you, Ron?" Hermione shouted in reply.

"I already _told_ you!" Ron answered, just as loudly.

"No, you didn't! I want to know the truth!"

"That was the truth!" Ron yelled, but knew it was a lie, and at a glare from Hermione he said, "I didn't want you to go with him, okay?"

"Him?" Hermione repeated. "Just him?"

"No!"

"Who would you have me go with then?"

Hermione's hair was falling out of its bun now as she and Ron screamed, their faces getting increasingly redder. At this remark, though, Ron's face turned such a scarlet that they matched the Gryffindor banners. He wanted to tell Hermione that he would have preferred if she had gone with him, but did not know how to phrase this. In a moment, however, Hermione had spoken again.

"Look, Ron, I don't see why you have to get so upset over me making friends with Viktor—"

"_Friends_?" Ron repeated furiously. "You're not supposed to go to a ball with your _friends_!"

"Then _why_ did you want me to go with _you_?" Hermione demanded, and once again Ron had no reply except a flushed face. Why did she always _have_ to know everything?

"Well, if you don't like it, you know what the solution is, don't you?" yelled Hermione, just as Harry walked in through the portrait hole. Ron regained his poise.

"Oh yeah?" he yelled back. "What's that?"

"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!"

Ron mouthed soundlessly, at a loss for words yet again, as Hermione turned on her heel and stormed up the girls' staircase to bed. Ron turned to look at Harry.

"Well," he sputtered, thunderstruck at the conversation he had just had, "well—that just proves—completely missed the point—"

But Harry had no reply.

Ron, back in the present again, tucked his hands behind his head and considered Hermione. She was a funny girl, that was for sure, but did she _really_ like Viktor Krum all that much? What she said made it sound as though she did, but she always seemed to act strange around Ron when the subject of her Yule Ball date came up. But an even more unanswerable question was, well, why did he, Ron, care so much about Krum and Hermione?


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thanks to all of you who reviewed! I hope you like this chapter as much as you liked the first four.

Just in case anyone forgot--JKR owns it all!

------

Hermione was reading again. After her momentary obsession with thinking about Ron, she had come back to her ordinary self and was submerged once more.

"_After letting it sit for four more minutes_," the book read,"_add the crushed caterpillar heads and stir clockwise three times. Use slow, gentle strokes, or the potion will spoil and an extra beetle wing must be inserted before the feather can be added to the cauldron_…."

A beetle and an acid green quill….

"I told you!" Ron hissed at Hermione as she stared down at the article. "I _told_ you not to annoy Rita Skeeter! She's made you out to be some sort of—of scarlet woman!"

Hermione stopped being astonished and snorted with laughter. "_Scarlet woman_?" she repeated, shaking with suppressed giggles as she looked around at Ron.

"It's what my mum calls them," Ron muttered, his ears going red.

"If that's the best Rita can do, she's losing her touch," said Hermione, still giggling, as she threw _Witch Weekly_ onto the empty chair beside her. "What a pile of old rubbish."

She looked over at the Slytherins, who were all watching her and Harry closely across the room to see if they had been upset by the article. Hermione gave them a sarcastic smile and wave, and she, Harry, and Ron started unpacking the ingredients they would need for their Wit-Sharpening Potion. As she worked, however, she began to wonder how Rita Skeeter had found out about how Viktor had asked her to visit him in Bulgaria. She considered voicing this unnerving thought, but held back, since Ron didn't like her to mention Viktor. But for some reason she felt a great thrill at the thought of telling Ron this, and something urged her on. She had no idea why, but she _wanted_ to talk about Viktor in front of Ron, and so she did.

"There's something funny, though," she said, holding her pestle suspended over a bowl of scarab beetles. "How could Rita Skeeter have known…?"

"Known what?" said Ron quickly, making Hermione's heart jump. "You _haven't_ been mixing up Love Potions, have you?"

"Don't be stupid," Hermione snapped, starting to pound up her beetles again. She paused for a moment, glanced at Ron, and continued. "No, it's just … how did she know Viktor asked me to visit him over the summer?"

She felt herself blushing scarlet as she said this and determinedly avoided Ron's eyes. Whatever had told her to tell this to Ron had vanished, but there was no turning back now. She had started the conversation, and by the look on Ron's face, she would most definitely finish it.

"What?" said Ron, dropping his pestle with a loud clunk.

"He asked me right after he'd pulled me out of the lake," Hermione muttered. "After he'd got rid of his shark's head. Madam Pomfrey gave us both blankets and then he sort of pulled me away from the judges so they wouldn't hear, and he said, if I wasn't doing anything over the summer, would I like to—"

"And what did you say?" said Ron, who had picked up his pestle and was grinding it into the desk, a good six inches from his bowl, because he was looking at Hermione.

"And he _did_ say he'd never felt the same way about anyone else," Hermione went on, evading his question and feeling her face burn, "but how could Rita Skeeter have heard him? She wasn't there … or was she? Maybe she _has_ got an Invisibility Cloak; maybe she sneaked onto the grounds to watch the second task…."

"And what did you say?" Ron repeated, pounding his pestle down so hard that it dented the desk. She knew that he would not allow her to distract him with pointless talk about Rita Skeeter.

"Well, I was too busy seeing whether you and Harry were okay too—"

And then, the present-day Hermione remembered, Snape had "saved" her from having to tell Ron the truth: she'd told Viktor that she would love to join him in Bulgaria, but she'd have to check with Ron and Harry to make sure that there was nothing they had planned to do. Now she sighed, thinking that maybe Ron wouldn't have been so mad if she had told him then, instead of waiting until this summer, after their fifth year at Hogwarts. On the other hand, however, Ron _had _asked for Viktor's autograph a year ago after all.

"'Arry!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked around. Fleur Delacour was hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. Beyond her, far across the grounds, Hermione could see Hagrid helping Madame Maxime to back two of the giant horses into their harness. The Beauxbatons carriage was about to take off.

"We will see each uzzer again, I 'ope," said Fleur to Harry as she reached him, holding out her hand. "I am 'oping to get a job 'ere, to improve my Eenglish."

"It's very good already," said Ron in a strangled sort of voice. Fleur smiled at him; Hermione scowled. Did Ron _really_ like that arrogant pretty-girl?

"Good-bye, 'Arry," said Fleur, turning to go. "It 'az been a pleasure meeting you!"

Fleur then hurried back across the lawns to Madame Maxime, her silvery hair rippling in the sunlight, making Hermione feel rather sour.

"Wonder how the Durmstrang students are getting back," said Ron. "D'you reckon they can steer that ship without Karkaroff?"

"Karkaroff did not steer," said a gruff voice. "He stayed in his cabin and let us do the vork."

Viktor had come to say good-bye to Hermione.

"Could I have a vord?" he asked her.

"Oh … yes … all right," said Hermione, still feeling slightly flustered about Fleur and following Viktor through the crowd and out of sight of Harry and Ron.

"You'd better hurry up!" she heard Ron call loudly after her. "The carriages'll be here in a minute!"

But Viktor still led her away.

"Vill you come to visit in Bulgaria this summer?" he asked without prelude.

"Well," said Hermione, feeling uncomfortable. "I really don't think I should this summer. Harry's had a hard time and I think I need to stay and visit with him because I bet he'll need all the friends he can get…. Next year, though…."

Viktor looked disappointed, and for a moment it looked as though he wanted to say something, but he merely nodded and led her back towards Harry and Ron. When they came back to the two boys Ron stared for a long while at Hermione, but she kept her face impassive.

"I liked Diggory," said Viktor abruptly to Harry. "He vos alvays polite to me. Alvays. Even though I vos from Durmstrang—with Karkaroff," he added, scowling.

"Have you got a new headmaster yet?" said Harry.

Viktor shrugged. He held out his hand as Fleur had done, shook Harry's hand, and then Ron's. Ron looked as though he was suffering some sort of painful internal struggle, and Hermione had to work to keep herself from smiling. Viktor had already started walking away when Ron burst out, "Can I have your autograph?"

Hermione turned away, unable to keep the smile from her face anymore as the horseless carriages trundled toward them up the drive, and Viktor, looking surprised but gratified, signed a fragment of parchment for Ron.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thanks again for all of your reviews. Enjoy chapter six!

JKR owns all of this wonderful stuff....

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Ron, in Grimmauld Place now, was also recalling the end of his fourth year, but at a slightly later time than Hermione's most recent recollection. They had just gotten off the trains and had gone through the barrier between platforms nine and ten, where stood Harry's uncle and his own mother and father, along with Hermione's.

His mother hugged Harry very tightly when she saw him and whispered something in his ear. When she was done, Ron clapped his best friend on the back and said, "See you, Harry."

"'Bye, Harry!" said Hermione, and Ron watched in astonishment as she kissed him on the cheek. With a last wink at the twins, Harry disappeared into the crowds behind his uncle, and Ron turned his attention to Hermione.

"Er," he said awkwardly, wondering if she was going to kiss him too, and kind of hoping she would. For a strange moment he and Hermione stood there, staring at each other, and then Hermione said, "Well … good-bye, Ron, I think we'll see each other again very soon."

"'Bye…."

She didn't kiss him. She merely smiled and turned, disappearing, like Harry, with her own parents, leaving Ron feeling put out, a little disappointed, and very confused.

And now he was still confused. She hadn't kissed him then, and yet the look she had given him had been so strange, so different…. Almost like she was suddenly seeing him in a whole new light. Then she had just turned and left without another word. But then again, she _had_ kissed him, only just last year.

He was feeling so nervous he felt as though he were about to throw up. The world around him was swimming and he could barely focus on anything. Who was he again? Well, he _used _to be Ron Weasley, but now he wasn't sure. What was he doing? He was about to play a Quidditch game in front of the entire school, and he was surely going to make a complete fool of himself. Why was he doing this again? He had no idea.

But there was no getting out of it now. Harry was helping him stand up from the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall after breakfast. As he stumbled to a stand, Hermione drew Harry away for a moment before Ron caught up to them and stood next to them, feeling lost and desperate. Hermione turned to him and for a moment she gave him the same look that she had at the end of last year, before she said, "Good luck, Ron."

Then, miraculously, she was standing on tiptoe, wrapping her arms about his neck, and kissing him on the cheek. His mind seemed to go even more dazed as she broke away from him, gave Harry a quick clap on the shoulder, and said, "And you Harry." He wanted to say something to her, to ask her what this meant, to do something, even kiss her back, but before he could decide what to do, Harry was steering him away towards the entrance hall. His mind was too numb with shock and nerves to complain, but he was dimly aware of his hand touching the spot on his cheek where she had kissed him, and dimly aware of the fact that he was even more confused than he had been when she _hadn't_ kissed him.

But why had she kissed him now, and not before? Was it merely out of pity since he was so nervous? Did she really fancy Krum and Harry, like Rita Skeeter's article had said?


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks again for your wonderful reviews, and sorry I haven't updated in a while. My internet was down for a couple of days for reasons unknown, so I'm sorry about that. Anyway, to answer your question Marauder-Magick33, yes, the girl on the train was a witch ... I'm not entirely sure why I put that in there. I suppose it was more of a "help the scene be more of a transition between memories" type of thing. Or it was just one of those random ideas that you get and decide to put into your story. Sorry for the confusion!

To anyone who is confused about who owns Harry Potter:Go to your local bookstore and select any of the five Harry Potter books. Unless I'm much mistaken, last time I checked it was JKR's name on the cover and not mine! Enjoy the fic...

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The subway halted and Hermione stood, gathering her things to leave. She heaved her trunk out from under the seat where it had slid, gathered up Crookshanks in his basket, and headed out the sliding doors. Her memory of the last time she had made her way to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place carried her feet in the right direction, leaving her mind free to think of other things. Not to even her slightest surprise, her thoughts were of Ron. What was strange, however, was the fact that she was thinking of exactly the same thing that _Ron_ had just been thinking about—the time she really had kissed him on the cheek.

The three rose from the table, and Hermione took Harry's arm and drew him to one side.

"Don't let Ron see what's on those Slytherins' badges," she whispered urgently.

Harry looked questioningly at her, but she shook her head warningly; Ron had just ambled over to them, looking lost and desperate, and Hermione knew that now was not the time for her to explain to Harry what she had just said. When he had joined them, Ron looked down at her as though crying out for help, and Hermione couldn't help but pity him. She wanted to hug him as tightly as she could for a long while, caressing his pale, frightened face, and telling him that everything would be okay, but knew that that would not be appropriate. Instead she merely said, "Good luck, Ron," and was about to turn and say the same to Harry, when an unusual daring seized her and she found herself standing on tiptoe, preparing to kiss Ron on the cheek. However, her hands were trembling with fear and excitement, and he would surely see them. She couldn't let him see that—not if she was going to kiss him! But she couldn't stop now. She was already standing on her toes and Ron was looking (it could have been her imagination) expectant. So she did it—she kissed him on the cheek, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck in the hope that this would cover up their trembling.

Then she turned to Harry and, feeling slightly giddy, said, "And you, Harry," and gave him a quick pat on the back. Harry smiled, took Ron's arm and began walking him down the hall. As they went, Hermione saw Ron touch the spot on his cheek where she had kissed him, and she couldn't help but feel her spirits soar.

Now, as she made her way through street after street, she began to wonder. Why exactly had she been so nervous? She had kissed Harry the previous year, and she hadn't been tense at all about that. It had seemed like the only thing to do. _I also didn't feel anything by it_, she reminded herself, remembering the giddy feeling that had filled her upon kissing Ron and not recalling anything of that sort overcoming her when she had given the same gesture to Harry. But it was only a kiss on the _cheek_, she remembered as she began to recall that Christmas when Harry, not her or Ron but Harry, had gotten his first _real_ kiss.

Ron was lying, the lazy slug, on the hearthrug in Gryffindor tower, trying to finish his Transfiguration homework that night after their last D.A. meeting before the Christmas holidays. Hermione was sitting in one of the best seats by the fire, writing a letter to Viktor and trying not to glance too often at Ron. The letter was getting quite long; she was trying both to be kind and firm at the same time, while telling Viktor that as much as she had enjoyed being with him last year at school, she liked him only as a friend and would love to visit him in Bulgaria that summer as long as he knew that they were only friends. To word all of this carefully and sensitively was tedious, and required many long words and sentences. Why she wanted to give up a perfectly good relationship with an international Quidditch player she could not fathom, but she had an idea it had something to do with Ron.

After a moment the portrait hole opened and Harry came in, looking dazed and confused.

"What kept you?" Ron asked, as Harry sank into the armchair next to Hermione's.

Harry did not answer. He looked as though he was in a state of shock, and something told Hermione it had something to do with Cho, whom, she had noticed, appeared to have purposely held back while everyone else was leaving.

"Are you all right, Harry?" she asked, peering at him over the tip of her quill.

Harry gave a halfhearted shrug.

"What's up?" said Ron, hoisting himself up on his elbow to get a clearer view of Harry. "What's happened?"

Hermione saw him struggling for words and took pity on him.

"Is it Cho?" she asked. "Did she corner you after the meeting?"

Harry nodded, looking surprised. Ron sniggered, breaking off when Hermione caught his eye, who was wishing he wasn't so immature. She also found herself guiltily and rather shyly wishing that he might, one day, let her corner him. She found the thought of cornering Ron startling, and oddly intriguing.

"So—er—what did she want?" Ron asked in a mock casual voice.

"She—" Harry began, rather hoarsely; he cleared his throat and tried again. "She—er—"

"Did you kiss?" asked Hermione briskly, feeling strangely thankful that she was cutting ties with Viktor.

Ron sat up so fast that he sent his ink bottle flying all over the rug and making Hermione jump. Disregarding this completely he stared avidly at Harry.

"Well?" he demanded.

Harry looked from Ron's expression of mingled curiosity and hilarity to Hermione's slight frown, and nodded.

"HA!"

Ron made a triumphant gesture with his fist, which caused Hermione to scowl impatiently, and went into a raucous peal of laughter that made several timid-looking second years over beside the window jump. A reluctant grin spread over Harry's face as he watched Ron rolling around on the hearthrug. Hermione gave Ron a look of deep disgust and returned to her letter, half considering erasing all that she had written about wanting to be just friends and telling him simply that she would love to visit him, due to Ron's immaturity. But she held back out of loyalty to Ron.

"Well?" Ron said finally, looking up at Harry. "How was it?"

Harry appeared to be considering.

"Wet," he replied after a moment.

Ron made a noise that might have indicated jubilation or disgust, it was hard to tell.

"Because she was crying," Harry continued heavily.

"Oh," said Ron, his smile fading slightly. "Are you that bad at kissing?"

"Dunno," said Harry rather worriedly. "Maybe I am."

"Of course you're not," said Hermione absently, still scribbling away at her letter.

"How do you know?" said Ron in a sharp voice, and the half of Hermione's mind that wasn't absorbed in her writing knew that he was worried that Hermione and Harry had been kissing now. She had half a mind to promote this new thought of his, but then decided against it.

"Because Cho spends half her time crying these days," she said, purposely sounding vague so she would not become too overly emotional. "She does it at mealtimes, in the loos, all over the place."

"You'd think a bit of kissing would cheer her up," said Ron, grinning.

"Ron," said Hermione in a dignified voice, dipping the point of her quill into her ink pot, "you are the most insensitive wart I have ever had the misfortune to meet." _And I love you for it_ she was astonished to find herself thinking.

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Ron indignantly. "What sort of person cries while someone's kissing them?"

"Yeah," said Harry, sounding slightly desperate, "who does?"

Hermione looked at the pair of them pityingly, wishing that Ron would be a little more sensitive, and Harry too, for his own sake.

"Don't you understand how Cho's feeling at the moment?" she asked.

"No," said Harry and Ron together.

Hermione sighed and laid down her quill.

"Well, obviously, she's feeling very sad, because of Cedric dying. Then I expect she's feeling confused because she liked Cedric and now she likes Harry, and she can't work out who she likes best. Then she'll be feeling guilty, thinking it's and insult to Cedric's memory to be kissing Harry at all, and she'll be worrying about what everyone else might say about her if she starts going out with Harry. And she probably can't work out what her feelings toward Harry are anyway, because he was the one who was with Cedric when Cedric died, so that's all very mixed up and painful. Oh, and she's afraid she's going to be thrown off the Ravenclaw Quidditch team because she's been flying so badly."

A slightly stunned silence greeted the end of this speech, then Ron said, "One person can't feel all that at once, they'd explode."

"Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have," said Hermione nastily, picking up her quill and reconsidering her letter again, thinking of Viktor's thoughtfulness. She had half a mind to tell Ron that she was breaking up with Viktor just for him, but the other half thought it would be much more evil to let him still think that she favored the Bulgarian.

"She was the one who started it," said Harry. "I wouldn't've—she just sort of came at me—and next thing she's crying all over me—I didn't know what to do—"

"Don't blame you, mate," said Ron, looking alarmed at the very thought.

"You just had to be nice to her," said Hermione, looking up anxiously. "You were, weren't you?"

"Well," said Harry, "I sort of—patted her on the back a bit."

Hermione restrained herself from rolling her eyes with extreme difficulty.

"Well, I suppose it could have been worse," she said. "Are you going to see her again?"

"I'll have to, won't I?" said Harry. "We've got D.A. meetings, haven't we?"

"You know what I mean," said Hermione impatiently.

Harry didn't reply, but seemed to space out as though imagining what horrors awaited him should he go out with Cho.

"Oh well," said Hermione after a time, pretending to be buried in her letter once more, "you'll have plenty of opportunities to ask her…."

"What if he doesn't want to ask her?" said Ron, who had been watching Harry with an unusually shrewd expression on his face.

"Don't be silly," said Hermione vaguely, "Harry's liked her for ages, haven't you, Harry?"

But she half agreed with Ron. She had a bad feeling about Cho; maybe she wasn't right for Harry.

"Who're you writing the novel to anyway?" Ron asked Hermione, trying to read the bit of parchment now trailing on the floor. Hermione hitched it up out of sight, though she still half-wanted Ron to know what she was telling Viktor.

"Viktor."

"_Krum_?"

"How many other Viktors do we know?"

Ron said nothing, but looked disgruntled. Hermione felt slightly triumphant at the thought of Ron's disgruntlement, but did not say anything else. They sat in silence for another twenty minutes or so, Ron finishing his Transfiguration essay with many snorts of impatience and crossings-out, Harry sitting staring into the fire, presumably lost in thoughts about Cho, and Hermione writing steadily to the end of her parchment. When finally she had signed it "With love from Hermione" she rolled it up carefully and sealed it. Well, that was that, and as soon as Viktor read it she would be free to think about her feelings towards Ron. Right now she felt pretty angry, that was true, since Ron was being so stubbornly tactless, but there was still something about him that made her want to send this letter off as soon as possible. Not tonight, of course, as she was completely exhausted.

"Well, 'night," she said at last, yawning widely, and setting off up the girls' staircase.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Okay, here it is: the final chapter. I hope you enjoy the ending; I had fun with it, and now that I'm done with this fic I can start another! Yay!

JKR owns everything!

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The door to Grimmauld Place was right in front of her. She wasn't sure what made her hesitate, or what made her nervous, but she was too anxious to get inside to try and figure it out. So she rang the doorbell, thinking that the portrait of Sirius's mother was probably screaming right about now. While she waited for the door to open she glanced up, wondering if Ron was looking out of a window down at her bushy brown-haired head. If he was, he would probably be very confused, since she'd told him that she would be in Bulgaria until Harry was ready to move into Grimmauld Place again. Then she would come and join them. But that was not the way things were going to be after all; she'd sent a letter to Viktor just the other day telling him that she'd had a change of plans.

-

Ron heard the doorbell but did not feel like getting up. Instead he sat up just long enough to grab his pillow before flopping back down and cramming it over his face to block out the sounds of Sirius's mother's screams. It was probably just Mundungus Fletcher coming to hide away some of his cauldrons, or Tonks returning to report what she'd learned while she was on duty for the Order, or Snape arriving to be his usual slimy self. After a few minutes the screaming died away, but Ron was feeling too sluggish to remove the pillow, so he just lay there with it over his face, wondering dimly what Hermione and Krum were doing at the moment. He did not even bother to look up when his door opened, thinking it was just his mother coming to tell him that lunch was ready.

"Ron?"

He had never sat up so quickly. The pillow went flying across the room from the force of it, but he disregarded this completely.

"_Hermione_?"

For a long moment Ron thought that he was hallucinating, or that he had dozed off and was dreaming it, but there was simply no mistaking it—Hermione was standing there with Crookshanks under one arm and her trunk in the other, with a slightly worried expression on her face.

"Are you all right?" she asked anxiously. "Why did you have that pillow over your face? Are you sick?"

"I'm fine!" Ron replied, grinning more broadly than he had all summer, while still uncomfortably aware of how messed up his hair was. Hermione smiled back. "Let me help you with that."

He sprang up from his bed and dragged her trunk over to the foot of Harry's bed. He'd only gone halfway, however, when Hermione said somewhat awkwardly, "Um … Ron? I sleep upstairs … or at least last time I did…."

Ron realized what he'd done immediately and felt his face turn red.

"Oh—yes—of course." He shook his head and turned around. Hermione put Crookshanks down and the two of them heaved the trunk to Hermione and Ginny's empty room, where they laid it down at the foot of Hermione's bed. There was a moment of quiet between them, before Hermione spoke.

"Where's Ginny?"

"She's … I dunno. Maybe in the kitchen."

"Oh."

Ron paused for a minute before saying what he really wanted to say, and what had been nagging at him ever since he'd seen Hermione standing in his doorway.

"Why aren't you in Bulgaria with Krum?"

Hermione sighed.

"I didn't go," she replied quietly, avoiding his gaze.

"Why?" Ron persisted. "Are you going later or something?"

Hermione sat down on her neatly made bed, examining her hands, and Ron sat down next to her, studying her carefully and wondering why she was refusing to look at him.

"I'm not going," said Hermione after a moment. "Not now, not later … not ever. I wrote him telling him I decided against it."

Ron couldn't help but feel completely overjoyed by this. He felt strangely triumphant at the thought of Hermione staying with him instead of with Krum, but knew that she probably wasn't staying here because of him.

"Why?" he asked again. "Harry?"

Hermione smiled slightly.

"Nah," she said, putting her hands flat against her knees and looking Ron in the eyes at last. "I would have been back by the time Harry came even if I _did_ go…. No, I didn't go … because of you."

Ron stared at her and was startled to see tears brimming in her eyes.

"Hermione …" he started to say, but she interrupted him.

"R-Ron, did you want to go to the ball with me?" she asked, now crying softly.

"What?" Ron replied, completely taken aback.

"Instead of V-Viktor … did you want m-me to go with you?"

Ron's mouth opened slightly from either surprise or because he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words.

"I …" he managed to get out.

"I th-thought you did when we had … when we had that fight," Hermione said. "But now I'm…. You d-didn't just ask me as a last resort, d-did you?"

"No," said Ron at last. "I wanted you to go with me. More than anything. I did. I did, Hermione."

"Oh, Ron!"

And, just as she had done three years ago, now she did again. She flung her arms around Ron and broke down completely, her face buried in Ron's shoulder. This time, however, Ron did not pat her awkwardly on top of the head, but timidly, very timidly, he put his arms around her, too. After a moment Hermione began to speak again, her voice muffled against Ron.

"I told Viktor, R-Ron, I told him that I didn't want to go v-visit him! I did it because I w-wanted to stay with you, because I _wanted_ to, and Viktor … I don't know, Ron, he's j-just not like you. And you mean so _much_ to m-me that I didn't want to l-leave you…. But why did you get so mad at me when I went with V-Viktor to the ball? I know you w-wanted to go with me, but _why_? Answer m-me the _truth_ this time!"

The truth. But what was the truth? Well, as much as he'd been confused before, now he knew the truth, and he knew that Hermione knew it as well. She just needed to hear it. But first he wanted to know the truth for himself. She had kissed him last year, and yet she had also kissed Harry. It sounded as though she had always wanted to go to the ball with him instead of Krum, but she had gone with Krum. She had given up going to Bulgaria with the Quidditch player just for him, and yet she had said in the first place that she would love to go to Bulgaria with him. So he had to know the truth for himself before he said anything to Hermione. That was just the way it was going to be.

"Hermione," he said at last, "I will tell you the truth, but you have to tell me something first. And I want you to answer me honestly."

Hermione did not break away but nodded all the same. Ron had a feeling she was afraid to look at him, and felt safer buried in his arms.

"Do you love me?"

Hermione made a noise that may have been a sniff or a laugh or a noise of surprise or some mixture of the above. She paused for a long while, and Ron felt extremely nervous about her answer. Was she preparing herself to tell him the answer he wanted, or was she trying to put off the moment when she'd have to break his heart? He tried not to think about what he'd do if she told him that she loved Harry or Krum, and instead focused on Hermione herself. She was holding him so tight, and her hair smelled very pretty. He put his head down close to hers and breathed in the bushy hair he'd grown to love so much. Oddly enough, he noticed the smell to be that of the perfume he'd given to her for Christmas the previous year. He was so preoccupied by this that when she finally said, "Yes" he wasn't quite prepared for it.

"What?"

"_Yes_, Ron, I said _yes_!"

"Are—are you sure?"

"Pretty sure, yeah!" She was looking at him again and her eyes were no longer streaming. "Now answer _my_ question. Why did you get so mad when I went to the ball with Viktor?"

Ron took a deep breath.

"Because … I wanted to go with you. I hated him for taking you instead of me taking you. Why? Because I love you. I've always loved you. Even when you told me to make the 'gar' nice and long in _Wingardium Leviosa_, and I said that you were a nightmare. Even when I thought that Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers, and you kept denying it. Every time you fought with me I liked you that much more…."

He held up his forefinger and thumb and put them an inch apart. Hermione started to cry once more and hugged him again.

"We're s-so stupid, Ron!" she cried.

"What?"

"Why didn't we d-do this years ago?" she said. "Things would have b-been so m-much easier…."

"I dunno …" Ron replied. "But please stop crying, Hermione. There's nothing to cry about. Aren't you happy?"

"Yes!" said Hermione, trying to stop herself from crying anymore and looking up once again. "More than ever."

"Well, now I know what Harry felt like when Cho cornered him and started sobbing all over _his_ shoulder," he said, and Hermione grinned slightly. "But, you know, I don't know what he got so scared for. You'd think a bit of kissing would have cheered him up, to tell the truth."

-The End-


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